Chapter 4
1368 Words
TREVOR'S POV:
The air inside the rink is freezing, but I barely notice it. My skates scrape against the ice as I warm up, weaving between cones and stretching out my legs.
Today's my day.
Today is the day of the hockey tryouts.
Today's the day I prove myself—not as Brandon's little brother, but as Trevor. Just Trevor. The future Alpha.
The coach starts us off with drills, and I'm in my element. My body moves like it's on autopilot. The puck feels like it's part of me as I maneuver it through the course, faster and cleaner than anyone else.
I glance up at the stands for a split second, hoping to catch a glimpse of someone—anyone—cheering for me. But they're empty. Of course, they are. My dad wouldn't bother to come, and it's better that way. I don't need him watching me.
The drills continue. Puck handling, speed, agility. One by one, I crush them. Each pass is perfect, each shot hits its mark. My legs burn as I push myself harder than I ever have, but I don't care.
"Nice work, Trevor!" the coach calls out to me.
I smile but I stop myself from feeling pride too early. I'm not here for compliments—I'm here to make this team.
The one-on-one challenge is next. My opponent is bigger, stronger-looking, but I've been training for this for a long time. He's one of the senior players, a tall guy with a smirk that makes my blood boil. We circle each other on the ice.
He tries to fake me out, but I'm faster. I steal the puck and race toward the goal, weaving around him like he's standing still. My stick catches the puck, and I shoot. It soars past the goalie and into the net.
"Nice shot!" someone mutters behind me, and I turn to see a group of players watching.
"That's Brandon's little brother, isn't it?"
I freeze.
The words feel like a slap to the face and it crushes the pride I felt seconds ago.
"Yeah, no wonder he's good. Must run in the family. Plus they have Alpha blood in them. So, I'm not surprised" another guy says..
I grip my stick tightly until my knuckles turn white.
Brandon this. Brandon that. It's always about him.
"Shut up," I snap.
The guy raises an eyebrow. "What? It's a compliment. Relax bro"
"Don't call me that!" My voice echoes across the rink.
He chuckles, and something in me snaps. Before I know it, I'm shoving him, hard. His skates slide backward, and he stumbles.
"What the hell, man?" he yells, shoving me back.
And then I punch him. My fist connects with his jaw so hard that pain shoots through my knuckles, but I don't care.
Chaos erupts.
The other players pull us apart as we lunge at each other. At this point, my breathing is ragged and my vision is blurred with anger.
"Enough!"
The coach's voice booms across the ice, silencing everyone. He storms over with an annoyed look on his face.
"What the hell do you think you're doing, Trevor?" he screams at me.
"He started it!" I shout.
"I don't care who started it! This is a hockey tryout, not a damn boxing match!"
I glare at the guy, who's smirking despite the red mark forming on his jaw.
"Get off the ice," the coach says, pointing toward the exit
"What?"
"You heard me. Get off the ice. You're lucky your dad is the Alpha. If not, I should throw you out. Fighting is prohibited"
"But-"
"You'll hear from us by the end of the day if you're accepted, but right now, you need to leave."
I want to argue, to tell him it's not fair, but the look in his eyes tells me it's useless.
I yank off my helmet and storm toward the bench. I'm pissed to the point that I can feel my blood boiling. The other players watch in silence.
I slam the door of the locker room shut. My hands are shaking as I sit down, burying my face in them.
Brandon's shadow is everywhere. No matter what I do.
As I walk away, the only thing I know for sure is this: I'm done being Brandon's little brother. One way or another, I'm going to make a name for myself. And no one—no one—is going to stop me.
-
My breathing is heavy as I replay the scene in my head.
"Brandon's little brother," I mutter under my breath.
It doesn't matter what I do or how hard I push myself. All anyone sees is him. Brandon.
That f*****g bastard.
I kick a stray rock on the sidewalk, sending it flying across the pavement. I want to scream, to punch something or someone. Instead, I shove my hands into my pockets and keep walking.
I've always hated being in his shadow, and now, the thought of him sitting comfortably on his so-called hockey throne makes my stomach turn. I'll take it from him, I swear. I'll rip the crown right off his head and make sure everyone knows who the real king is.
But where the hell is he? I scan the campus as I walk. My eyes scan over groups of students on the grass or heading to their next class. Brandon's nowhere to be seen. Typical. He's probably off somewhere basking in the admiration of his little fan club.
The thought makes my blood boil again.
I need a break. Something to clear my head before I snap. My feet carry me to the campus cafe. The place is packed, but I find a corner table and sink into the chair, ordering a black coffee.
As I wait, my mind drifts to last night. That girl. I grit my teeth, annoyed with myself for even thinking about her.
She's nothing, Trevor. Just some random girl.
But no matter how hard I try, I can't shake the image of her. Her long red hair catching the glow of the streetlights, her bright brown eyes that seemed to pierce right through me. She was stunning—too stunning.
I sound like f*****g Shakespeare.
At the thought of her, my wolf stirs in my chest. What the hell? My wolf has never done that before.
"She's beautiful" Mario, my wolf says.
"No, she's not. Shut the f**k up"
I shake my head and lean back in my chair, glaring at the ceiling. What's wrong with me? I'm not the type to get hung up on a girl. I've had plenty of them throw themselves at me, and they're all the same—boring, predictable, disposable. Being the son of the Alpha definitely has its perks. Every girl wants to f**k me. Every girl wants the potential Luna status or just the mere thought of being associated with me.
"Trevor, focus," I mutter under my breath, clenching my fists. I've got bigger things to worry about than some pretty face. Like how I'm going to take down Brandon.
A group of girls walks by, giggling and glancing my way. One of them gives me a smile and a wave, twirling her hair as if that'll catch my attention. It doesn't.
I take a long sip of my coffee, ignoring them completely. My mind is already racing, plotting the next move in my plan to destroy Brandon. He doesn't deserve the throne—I do. And I'll do whatever it takes to prove it.
As I leave the café, the sun is starting to set. For some reason, the air feels heavier, like something's about to happen. I shove my hands deeper into my pockets and head toward home.
Then I hear it—a loud noise coming from the cemetery.
I stop in my tracks. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. It's probably nothing, I tell myself. Maybe some kids messing around.
But curiosity—or maybe something deeper—pulls me toward the sound. I hesitate for a moment, then turn toward the cemetery.
Let me just check it out.
What could go wrong, right?
- Writer
